


Say my name

by AuroraSophie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Healing, Muggle Life, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Ron Weasley Bashing, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29783568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraSophie/pseuds/AuroraSophie
Summary: After the war.Hermione takes a very differnt way to heal.She cuts every connection with the magic world and with her as a magical beeing.Five years.Five years to heal.Five years to find her way back.But time runs out.Will she find a way or might she need a little help from her former enemy, Malfoy?A story of healing. A story of love. A story of how you can not just run away to become okay.Feel free to say whatever you like... you will help me a lot with your thoughts and comments.Thanks to you and enjoy the read.English is not my first language. So please be gentle with me.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 19
Kudos: 27





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to J.K.Rowling.  
> I do not own any of it... just my thoughts.

“You really believe, for one fucking moment, I will do this?!”  
“For sure! You are my best friend, I have rescued your arse more than a hundred times!”  
“There is more than one way! Go on vacation, even take a fucking sabbatical!”  
“You are one of a stubborn idiot, Harry Potter!”  
“Maybe, but I am your favourite stubborn idiot, Mrs. Granger!”  
“You two! You are both stubborn idiots!”  
“Shut up, Ginny!”  
“Yeah... go away, I am pretty sure there are some kids are screaming your name...!”  
“The only kids are screaming are you lot!”  
“I do not want to discuss this! If you don't do it, I am up to find Malfoy. He will, with the deepest of pleasure!”  
“Merlin's balls! Malfoy...huh?!”  
“Hermione...”  
“Don't!”  
“Okay, I will do it. But remember, after five years there will be no way out of this, if you haven't found one! Are you really positive about this?”  
“Oh thank the Goddess! You've finally come to your senses. Yes, I know about the effects. Remember... brightest witch.”  
“Uh... heart melting... chosen one and brightest witch... I am going to vomit!”  
“Ginny!”  
“Harry!”  
“You two... go for it or I am doing it on my own.”  
…  
“Ready?”  
“... Yeah”  
“Obliviate”  
.  
.  
.  



	2. Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning  
> Domestic violence/abuse/rape (not explicit)

(three years after the war)

The day everything tumbled down was the day in court. She had not seen him since the war had ended. And now she was just about to make a statement. One about his role in the war. One about his behaviour during their time in Hogwarts.  
Hermione sat in the court as a witness. Her long curls in a straight bun. Lips thin. Here to do the right thing. Ron was not with her. He was angry, feeling betrayed.  
She sucked in the thin air with a deep breath. Trying to calm down.  
Harry has made his statement just ten minutes before. Now it was her turn.  
“Miss Hermione Jean Granger”  
And than her whole world broke down. With one silly sentence, with one stupid look.  
She attested everything. The truth. Malfoy wasn't guilty. He had been a victim.  
And as he was allowed to speak, he spoke directly to her.  
His pale blue eyes looked into her brown ones. His voice thin. His hair wild. A broken man.  
Hermione almost felt to her knees. All the memory she had been put away, all the memory she had packed deep into the darkest corner of her mind. They all came to the surface and hit her like a hammer.  
Malfoy never blinked, never lost eye contact with her as he apologized for his behaviour. As he spoke of his never ending nightmares of her on the floor of the Manor, she literally ran out of the court.  
.  
.  
.  
As she came home, Ron was drunk. As she had imagined. She ran past him into the kitchen.  
Hermione sank down on the floor and cried. He came after her and yelled.  
“Spare me your fucking little tears you are wasting over that filthy little bloody fucker Malfoy!!”  
But she could not stop the tears from falling. The ones for Malfoy, the ones for herself, the ones over her broken relationship, the ones for all the times she hadn't been crying.  
Ron was blind with hate.  
He crabbed her by the hair and put her to her feet. His face so near, she could almost taste the Gin he had been drinking on her own tongue. Never had he done something like this before.  
“Or do you wanna become his filthy little mistress!? I do not understand you and neither Harry. All for the greater good, hu? Fucking Malfoy is supposed to rot in Azkaban! But now he is a free man!!! At your mercy!! Are you two fooling me? Soon enough he will take my girl form me, eh? What are you saying? Do you like it to be fucked by him?”  
Hermione tried to reach for her wand. Too late. She knew it was her mistake. They never talked about the war or what it had left behind. Actually they never spoke much. Ron could not put his anger aside, nor could he announce it correctly. Too late.  
“I will show you how to be fucked!”

After this nothing had been like before. Ron moved from their home back to his parents house. She carried on. A simple break up. Nothing more. She never told nobody.  
Ginny was the only one who took a deeper look at Hermione. With Ginny she discussed her wish to be obliviated so she could carry on in Muggle London. Come down with her past, take a time out, time to heal. Healing all those Memorys of the war and of the ones Ron had left behind.  
Hermione told Ginny about her nightmares, about the ones that woke her up soaking wet in the middle of the night. Ginny knew very well how Hermione felt. Even Harry had his own nightmares form time to time. The war had left its scars on everyone.  
Hermione had always been the thinker of the Golden Trio. Always cool, always there to calm everybody down. She always knew a way out. But now she almost fell into pieces in front of Harry. She lost weight. She was unfocused. So who was he to not make her wish come true.  
They talked it over and over again.  
Hermione found a beautiful little cottage in the suburban of London. Money never played any role. With the title of a war heroine there came the money. Even her desk job at the Ministry paid her off. But Hermione would not have been Hermione if she not would have found herself a part time job at a small book shop near her new home, too. The plan was to erase every memory of the war, of her relationship with Ron, even her name along with her beeing a witch. If she doesn't find herself a way back to the world of magic within five years, she will not come back to it. And the memorys will be gone forever.  
So on a beautiful Saturday afternoon the three friends stood in the middle of the new cottage, discussed and screamed and cried and laughed.  
As Harry and Ginny left, Hermione laid in her new bed deep asleep.  
“Was it the right thing to do?”  
“Give her that little peace, Harry. She will fight her way back, you know that for sure.”  
.  
.  
.


	3. After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning  
> Meantion of alcohol abuse and rape (not explicit)

.  
.  
(Year four after the Obliviation)

“Potter”  
“Malfoy”  
Harry looked across his office to find Malfoy standing in his doorway. His lean figure towered there. Harry always wondered where the old Malfoy was hidden now. The new Malfoy, the free man after his acquittal, was easy to be with. Sure, he was stubborn and a very solitude man, but one you can have a honest talk with. Malfoy also was one of his best aurors. Sometimes Harry felt like he was trapped in a fairytale. But that is what life and fucking situations do to all of us. Soften us down, reminding us what is really worthy. Nah, not everyone. His former best friend Ron had drunken himself to the worst version of a broken man.  
So Malfoy, than.  
“What honour brought me to meet your lovely face this Morning, Malfoy?”  
“Ah, Potter... you and your humour. Always on point, aren't you. But as it is, I like to discuss an issue with you.”  
“Go on.” said Harry and pointed at a chair in front of his desk.  
Malfoy took the distance from the door to the chair in three footsteps and put himself on the chair as only a purblood will do. With grace. Sometimes Malfoy reminds Harry of Lucius. But the man in front of him was neither a coward nor an arrogant little prick. Instead Malfoy was the best auror for the difficult cases. The ones you have to put your life to a risk with.  
“Potter, it took me quite a while. But I have to ask you something.”  
“Go ahead than...”  
“Where is Granger?”  
“None of your business, Malfoy, I told you before.” With that Harry turned away from his desk.  
“Potter! It has been four years till I saw her!”  
“And now? Do you tell me, you miss her, the filthy little mudblood?” Harry knew he played the dirty card.  
“I am no longer that annoying boy, Potter!”  
“Sure. But it is still none of your business.”  
Malfoy took a deep breath. Sure, it was none of his business. He didn't miss Granger. But something was wrong here. He could literally smell it. Yes, yes, there had been this time in their sixth year as he fancied her a little bit. But who would have not?  
After all she was one of the Golden Trio. Gone to thin air, as it seamed. The other part of the Golden Trio was a drunken little rat now.  
Only Potter, the boy who lived and died and lived again, was still stable. Head of the Auror Office.  
Something was wrong. And Malfoy would find out what it was all about.  
“Well, I see. Met at the taskforce than. See you later, Potter.”  
…  
“Malfoy, wait! Give it a rest, please. Hermione went away on her own will. If not in about a quarter of a year she will never return to our world. So, do me a favour, do not ask me ever again.”  
Harry turned his back to Malfoy, staring out of the bewitched window which showed him a bright summer park.  
Malfoy nodded and left the office. His mouth dry.  
.  
.  
.  
“I do not ask you a second time! You hear me, you bastard!”  
Ron blinked heavily against the sun. Someone crabbed him by his coat. Who was that? He must have named himself , but Ron could not remember.  
“Where is Hermione? And don't you dare lie to me!”  
“Hermi... I do not know nothin' about that lill'... don't know nothin'... hear me!”  
The Weasel smelled like old onions and fish. Malfoy didn't believe one single second in Ron's words.  
His next step was highly forbidden. But he had to do it. Some inner voice told him to.  
And his inner voice was always right. Because of that he was such an good auror.  
“Legilimens”  
…  
In pure disgust he let got of the Weasel. He rubbed his hand on his black trousers. As if to wipe them clean. His stomach was about to turn upside down at any moment. He took a deep breath in. Calming down.  
“You should rot in hell for what you've done. I swear to you, I will find her.” He said with an icy voice.  
“Ha... the littl' filthy fucker, there, there... wann' find his mistress... haha... good luck to ya than. Even the great Potter do not know nothin' 'bout her lill' house by the river.”  
Malfoy left without a word. Left to find her. Left to make up for all the lost time. Left to bring her back. Left to do her right. He will never forget what he just had seen in the Memory of the Weasel. Will never forget her eyes, wide with fear and pain. Just the same as she laid there on the floor of his Manor. Just the same. Just the same. And his own Memory hit him like a bullet in the brain.  
.  
.  
.


	4. Her

.  
.  
.  
.  
And he found her.

Hermione was just about to leave the little book shop. She stepped outside into the warm air of the summer evening. She closed the door behind her, locked it and went over to her red bike, which leaned against the wall of the house.  
The pedals under her feet, the air in her hair, she felt free. She threw her head back and laughed out loud. This was her life and she loved it. It was a quiet life. She worked at the small book shop, which she now owned, after Mrs. Finn passed away two years ago.  
Hermione lived at a beautiful little cottage in a beautiful little suburban village. Roses outside in her garden. Shelves full of books inside her house. She was connected with her life. Sometimes she felt like something was missing, true. But nothing as bad as it could not be smoothen down with a nice little glass full of red wine and a fantastic freshly baked bread with farmhouse cheese.  
Sometimes she had nightmares, more of them in the last two years. There was a red haired man in them, another, with no nose and eyes like a snake, there was fire and wind and something like flying dragons. But Hermione put it all down to the books she read.  
On this summer evening she rode her bike to the market, bought bread and cheese and some salad. With all of her purchases with her on the bike, she rode home.  
Down the hill and around the corner.  
The wind in her hair. Her red skirt waved around her bare legs. The sandals hung loosely over the handlebars of her bike.  
“Oh holy shit!!!” she screamed as she nearly crashed into an young man. She pushed the brakes and jumped down on the street to stop the bike. Her naked feet arched on the rough ground of the street.  
“Are you crazy? Totally out of your mind! Trying to murder me?”  
“Hush there little woman whom is riding like the devil himself around the corner!”  
She looked him in the eye. Pale blue. Short fair-haired, almost silver hair waving around his head, like an aura against the drowning sun. His figure was lean and towered above her. Long black trousers and a white button down. A small smile on his lips. Nicely swung lips. Handsome.  
Hermione blinked for one second, she could have sworn, she knew him.  
Draco had to put himself together. Finally he had found her. Not just found her but almost killed by her. Some things never change. He looked her up and down. Her bare feet, her bare legs in that red skirt. A white loosely blouse with more buttons open than really necessary. Her thin but oh so lovely curved frame. Her hair was short now. Cut till her shoulders, so her curls sprang wildly free. Her freckles more visible as ever before. The land life has done good things to her, he thoughed. She had grown into a real beauty.  
“The devil hides behind corners!”  
“Your feet are bleeding.” Obviously.  
“Let me take your bag and take a seat on the luggage rack. I will ride you home. Save.”  
Ha? Let a stranger ride her home. For real? Maybe she had hit her head.  
Hermione blinked once more, took a deep breath and muttered: “Said the devil...”  
Than she swung one leg over the bike and sat herself on the luggage rack.  
“Hold on tight, Granger!”  
“What you just said?”  
“Nothing! Enjoy your free ride!”  
.  
.  
.


	5. Sunset

Home

They stopped in front of a beautiful little Cottage. The red stones of the walls were overgrown with ivy and pink roses. The sunset illuminated everything in bright red and orange. 

“Here we are... thank you for the... uhaaaaa!” Hermione protested as Draco lifted her off the ground and carried her in his arms towards the gate.

“Your feet are still sore.” was all he said.

A warm feeling rushed through Hermiones chest, even if she didn't knew where this feeling came from. As long as she could remember no man ever had brought up such a feeling in her. But who was she to remember very well? Everything about her past seamed to be covered with thick fog. And the more she focused on the fog the ticker it became. So she had learned not to focus on it. Instead she was more the here and now person. Always in the present.  
As the still unknown stranger carried her along the small path of stones towards her doorstep, she nestled a little bit closer in his arms. Hermione breathed his scent in. It was a warm smell, like to be out in the woods in the summertime. She felt his heartbeat under her hand, that rested at his chest. A steady beat. Calming.  
He carried on, as if she was light as snow. His chin was covered in fair haired stubbles. His light blue eyes fixed on his way. He was indeed a very handsome man.  
What was she even doing here? Falling for a stranger? Nah, this would not be happening, she didn't even know his name.

As Draco carried her in his arms, he felt like he had to save her from more than just some sore feet. His eyes on the way, but his brain busy working out a plan. How was it save to bring back all her memories. And more important, will she let him help her remember?  
Her weight in his arms felt like the first warm day in spring to him. Like the sun warming his skin. Malfoy shrugged to get this feeling off his chest. He hadn't come here to develop any feeling. But he could not resist to take in the floral cent of her hair in deep breaths. 

“You can put me down now.”

Carefully she was set down on the ground at her door. 

“If you do not mind, I can come in with you and help you wash your feet or I can store your purchases away...”

“No, thank you!”

Draco stumbled a little, as he felt her magic. Like a invisible wall it stood in between them. He would not break this barrier, as it was clear to him, that she didn't even notice what she was doing. 

“Fine. I will left you now, Love. Looking forward to meet you again.” and with that he leaned forward and kissed her on her forehead.

“My Name is Emma, not Love!”

Draco smiled as he turned around and walked back the small path of stones towards the gate.  
Hermione stood there confused, touching her forehead with her right hand and the strangest feeling in her chest. 

“Who are you? What's your name? she called after him.

“Draco. Draco Malfoy.” and with that he vanished out of the gate and into the bright sunset.


	6. Nightmares

Nightmares

As the night came, so did the nightmares.  
Herminone tossed and turned around in her four poster bed.

In her dreams there was this dark room, no light. Stillness, only her own screams echoed from the black walls. She had been there before. She knew this dream. But something was new to it.  
Pale blue eyes staring at her from across the dark room. His eyes.

With a last scream she woke from her dream. Sweat tripped down her neck. She shivered under her thin bedsheets. Slowly she set herself up. Her bare feet touched the wooden floor beneath her. Her heart pumped at a high level, as she walked into the kitchen. There she made herself some chamomile tea with lots of sugar in it.  
Eventually she calmed down. But her brain was still busy browsing through all of her memories. There was this fog. Thick and white. For the life of her she could not remember why in hell she saw his eyes in her nightmare. Did she knew him before? Could this possible be true?  
Draco Malfoy. His name touched something deep inside of her... but she could not reach it.  
Hermione drank the last sip of her tea and went back to sleep.

And there she was again. A dark room. No light. Only her own screams.  
Suddenly a woman towered above her, her wild mane in her face. A pitch high voice in her ear. A name. Granger. Than there was a sharp pain in her left arm. Blood tripping from her arm. Tears streaming from her face. And she screamed again. And again. And the pale blue eyes looked at her. Pined her down.  
She screamed herself hoarse.

Draco stood by the window. The nearly full moon illuminated the garden, the window and the woman whom was sleeping in her bed. The silver light floated over the bizarre scene of the beautiful woman lying in her bed screaming. She screamed and screamed.  
Malfoy wondered if she did this every night. If she was aware of the nightmares and what she experienced in them. He himself had his own nightmares, mostly of them took place in the manor. Where his aunt tortured Hermione, where he who should not be named killed effortless everyone and everything and where Draco could not live anymore after the war. But he had learned to shut down his mind as he learned to come to peace with his past. Almost peace. 

He cast a spell through the window and turned around. 

Hermione relaxed in her sleep, turned around and slept soundly till her clock woke her at 6 in the morning.


	7. Considerations

Malfoy himself had had a sleepless night.  
Now he sat at his desk in his office, tired, but his mind was like a rollercoaster full of thoughts.  
As he had met Hermione, she was nothing like he remembered her, but also so familiar. She was the same and at the same time not.  
He told himself what the hell he was supposed to do now that he had found her. It was like he had some of her and at the same time none. Draco was haunted by her ghost for years now. By his memory of her on the floor of the manor. And now he was also haunted by the fresh memory of her laying in her bed, screaming. Haunted by the floral scent of her hair and how her freckles danced all over her nose when she laughed.  
Another thought crossed his mind, a darker one. The little drunken Rat had told him, that he knew about the cottage. This was the one hint, which had actually lead him to her. The house by the river.  
The house by the river, and even Potter didn't know nothing about it. So how could this drunken peace of shit know about it. Such deep considerations didn't suit the Weasel. And much more alarming than the fact, that the Weasel could actually think straight, was the thought of him chasing after Hermione. Maybe to do her harm. Like he had done before.  
Draco took a sharp breath in.  
He didn't hear Harry come in.

“Malfoy! Are you deaf? I stood there banging a hole in your door!”

“Ah, the chosen one. What can I offer you?”

“First of all, no tea with your tie in it!” Harry grinned.

Malfoy took a look at the cup in front of him. The golden boy was right. His dark blue tie was indeed hanging in his tea. Shit.

“Okay, what is wrong with you? We had a Meeting with the Minister 20 Minutes ago. Usually you are the first one there to crawl up his ar...”

“Stop it. Potter. Please.”

If Harry would have been asked he would have answered Malfoy must have fallen ill. It had just given one time where he had seen him like this. Years ago in trial. A broken man. Since than Malfoy had fought his way back to live and into society. But now the same broken man from the past sat in front of Harry. Still with his tie in the tea. That alone would have count as a valid sign of madness among the Malfoy family.  
He took a seat and looked Malfoy in the eye.

“What is wrong?”

“I am not about to tell you. Just a case. A very difficult, yes, but nothing I can not solve.”

“Sure. But if you need any help, I am here for you. Even if you just wanna talk.”  
“I appreciate that. But for now I am okay on my own.”

“As you wish. You know where to find me. But for now, you should get your ass in the direction of the Minister...” Harry stood up and was just about to open the door.

“Harry... one question.” it was a short consideration which brought Malfoy to this.

Harry stood frozen in place. Never had Malfoy ever called him by his given name. Something serious must be going on.

“Fire away than.”

“The Rat... Weasley... what does he know about Hermiones absence?”

A shiver run down Harry's spine, he turned round and as he looked in Malfoys pale face the realisation clicked in his head.

“You found her.” No question. A statement. 

Malfoy just nodded and didn't even blink once.

“You've opened up a cold case. I have warned you. Merlin, you will be the death of me! You both!”  
The words came out off his mouth before he could stop himself:”My house, tonight at seven.”  
With that Harry closed the door behind him.

Draco himself was not more surprised than Harry.


	8. Hermione

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: mention of anxiety and post traumatic stress disorder

As Hermione unlocked her small Bookshop she was deep in thoughts.  
The nightmares of last night hung over her like a dark shadow.  
The shadow was there when she woke up this morning and it wasn't about to go away. Usually the nightmares stood back in the night and didn't haunt her trough the day. Hermione felt like she had to do something before the day was done.  
Maybe she should go and see a Muggle Therapist. A what? M-u-g-g-l-e... what? Okay, now she definitely needed a therapist. Where did this word just come from. She shook her head in disbelief. Her mind must be playing tricks on her. Anxiety hit her and her breath became irregular. On her tongue there was this metal taste. She forced herself to breath in deeply and slowly. Minutes went by. She stood there in the middle of the room, just breating. As her breath calmed down a little Hermione sat herself down in one of the big green armchairs in the shop and looked out the window. Watched people passing by, without even noticing, saw through them like through glass.  
In the last year she lost a lot of sleep. She had been keeping herself awake, because of the nightmares or her anxiety caused by them.  
Hermione went through all she knew about herself. If only this thick fog would go away, maybe than she could see clear.  
But as it was, nothing could be seen.  
So she went through everything she could remember. She knew her name, Emma Jones.  
She knew she was 25 years old. She owned a little shop and a cottage.  
She had no friends, expect the former owner of the shop Mrs. Finn, but was dead for two years now. She had no memory about her childhood or her parents. She didn't even know where she went to school. She knew her favourite colour and her favourite time of the year. But she didn't know nothing about her past of the last 21 years. All she could remember was this village and her bookshop and her cottage. And her nightmares.  
It was an even sum.  
She had to go and see a therapist. The cloud had to be lifted. Hermione was ready to tear the walls down. To save her heart. Under the surface there must be something. Something so ugly, her mind allowed it only to come to her in the disguise of the nightmares. Maybe she was suffering from post traumatic stress disorder. Once she had read this article about this mental health condition. Maybe she had had an accident, an car accident for example, because she hated cars, she couldn't even drive one. Her thoughts ran through her mind like a wild horse.  
And that Malfoy man, his eyes had hit her like a hammer. This pale blue eyes had cracked open up something in her. Hermione was curious to find out more. About him and her. But where would she even find him? There was nothing more than his name. Draco... very unusual. A sound like dragon. But dragons are made up by a nice fairytale for children. But what if this Draco-man, this dragon-man did come to save her. Like a dragon slayer, like a knight.  
Okay, now she was totally out of her mind. Hermione grinned about her own thoughts and drove them out with a short shake of her head.  
She had been holding on a long time now. Now it was time to open up, to have it another way.

With a light heart she hung the “closed for the day” sign in the door window. She whistled as she head to her bicycle, her wild curls bounced as she drove away over the cobblestones.

Hermione didn't noticed the red haired man who was standing behind the willow trees.


	9. Talk

“Malfoy.”

“Chosen one.”

“Straight to the point, ha?”

“May I come in or do I have to tent in your front yard?”

“Arse as usual, welcome in, than, Death Eater.”

“You are talking through your arse, as usual!”

“Bad day, was it?”

“Still standing outside, see!”

“Do you need an official memo to come in?” with that Harry pulled Draco in.

“Do you mind not destroying my suit!?”

“Oh, sorry, your perfect clean pureblood suit...”

Ginny found her husband and Malfoy nose to nose and wand to wand standing on the doorstep.

“Boys, please!”

Both men put their wands away and smoothed their clothes down. With a nod of the head they entered the door and went towards the dinning room.  
There they sat down on the chairs which stood near the fireplace. 

“Firewhiskey?”

“Would be great.”

Harry filled two glasses with Firewhiskey and handed Malfoy one. 

“Okay than, go on, I will listen.”

And so Draco told Harry everything. From his first thought, that something is wrong, to when he had asked Ron and to when he had found Hermione. He told Harry, Hermione had still magic left in her and how her house was surrounded by it. Harry in return told him everything about the Obliviation. 

“You know what he did to her?”

“It was a bad break up. Childhood sweethearts... I never thought this would happen. But maybe they both realised they weren't what they thought they were...”

“So you clearly don't know.” said Malfoy with a sad smile.

Ginny came around the corner: “But I do know.”

Both, Harry and Draco, looked up to her.  
And so she told Harry.  
As she had ended, Harry sat there with his head in his hands. As he lifted his head there were tears in his eyes. Malfoy stood up form his seat and pressed Harrys left shoulder. 

“I will not press forward, but what if he is still after her? He knows where she is living. We have to bring her back.”

“First of all, this is your fault! If you wouldn't have been this dump, by now he wouldn't even know!”

“Oh, right! Right! He did know before! He pointed me directly to her!”

“But her house is nowhere near the river! And I knew form the very start where Hermione is! He sat you up!”

“To follow me...” Draco sunk back to his seat. His breath unsteady.

“Get yourself together! We will bring her back... save!”

And so the three sat the whole night working on a plan.


End file.
